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37. THE GRIEF OF BEREAVEMENT. Wallenstein's Reflections on hearing of the death of young Piccolomini. Translated from Schiller by Coleridge.
He is gone,
No more submitted to the change and chance
With him! but who knows what the coming hour,
This anguish will be wearied down, I know;
From the highest,
38. PRIULI AND JAFFIER.. Thomas Otway.
Thomas Otway, from whose tragedy of "Venice Preserved" the following extract is taken, was born in Sussex, England, in 1651, and died, in a state of almost incredible destitution and wretchedness, in 1685. He was the author of several plays, of which his "Venice Preserved" is the most deservedly celebrated.
Priuli. No more! I'll hear no more! Begone, and leave me'
Patience! where 's the distance throws
Me back so far, but I may boldly speak
In right, though proud oppression will not hear me?
Pri. Have you not wronged me?
Have brooked injustice, or the doing wrongs,
Pri. Yes, wronged me! In the nicest point,
Jaf. 'Tis to me you owe her:
Childless had been else, and in the grave
Pri. You stole her from me! - like a thief At dead of night! that curséd hour you chose To rifle me of all my heart held dear
May all your joys in her prove false, like mine!
Jaf. Half of your curse you have bestowed in vain ; Heaven has already crowned our outcast lot With a young boy, sweet as his mother's beauty. May he live to prove more gentle than his grandsire, And happier than his father!
Pri. Rather live
To bait thee for his bread, and din your ears
Jaf. You talk as if 't would please you.
Jaf. Would I were in my grave!
Pri. And she, too, with thee!
For, living here, you 're but my cursed remembrancers I was once happy!
Jaf. You use me thus, because you know my soul Is fond of Belvidera. You perceive
My life feeds on her, therefore thus you treat me.
Jaf. Indeed, my Lord, I dare not.
My heart, that awes me, is too much my master.
Pri. No more!
Jaf. Yes, all, and then adieu forever.
The luscious sweets of plenty;
And never waked but to a joyful morning;
Pri. Home, and be humble! Study to retrench;
Reduce the glittering trappings of thy wife
Then to some suburb cottage both retire;
39. NOTHING IN IT.-Charles Mathews.
Leech. But you don't laugh, Coldstream! Come, man, be amused, for once in your life! - you don't laugh.
Sir Charles. O, yes, I do. You mistake; I laughed twice, distinctly, only, the fact is, I am bored to death!
Leech. Bored? What! after such a feast as that you have given us? Look at me, I'm inspired! I'm a King at this moment, and all the world is at my feet!
Sir C. My dear Leech, you began life late. You are a young fellow, forty-five, and have the world yet before you. I started at thirteen, lived quick, and exhausted the whole round of pleasure before I was thirty. I've tried everything, heard everything, done everything, know everything; and here I am, a man of thirty-three, literally used up-completely blasé !
- not to
Leech. Nonsense, man!- used up, indeed!—with your wealth, with your twenty estates in the sunniest spots in England, mention that Utopia, within four walls, in the Rue de Provence, in Paris.
Sir C. I'm dead with ennui!
Leech. Ennui poor Croesus! Sir C. Croesus! no, I'm no Croesus! My father, - you've seen his portrait, good old fellow ! - he certainly did leave me a little matter of twelve thousand pounds a year; but, after all
Leech. O, come!
Sir C. O, I don't complain of it.
Leech. I should think not.
Leech. I know several. change of scene.
Sir C. I have tried it; - what's the use?
Sir C. I have; - there's nothing in it.
Sir C. O, no; there are some people who can manage to do on less, on credit.
My dear Coldstream, you should try
Leech. Nothing in all Europe?
Sir C. Nothing!-O, dear, yes! I remember, at one time, I did, somehow, go about a good deal.
Leech. You should Sir C. I have been. Nothing there, people say so much about everything. There certainly were a few glaciers, some monks, and large dogs, and thick ankles, and bad wine, and Mont Blanc; yes, and there was ice on the top, too; but I prefer the ice at Gunter's, - less trouble, and more in it.
Leech. Then, if Switzerland would n't do, I'd try Italy.
Sir C. My dear Leech, I've tried it over and over again, — and what then?
Leech. Did not Rome inspire you?
Sir C. O, believe me, Tom, a most horrible hole! People talk so much about these things. There's the Coloseum, now; round, very round, a goodish ruin enough; but I was disappointed with it. Capitol,-tolerable high; and St. Peter's,- marble, and mosaics, and fountains, dome certainly not badly scooped; but there was nothing
Leech. Come, Coldstream, you must admit we have nothing like St. Peter's in London.
Sir C. No, because we don't want it; but, if we wanted such a thing, of course we should have it. A dozen gentlemen meet, pass resolutions, institute, and in twelve months it would be run up; nay, if that were all, we 'd buy St. Peter's itself, and have it sent over. Leech. Ha, ha! well said, you 're quite right. What say you to beautiful Naples?
Sir C. Not bad, excellent water-melons, and goodish opera; they took me up Vesuvius, - a horrid bore! It smoked a good deal, certainly, but altogether a wretched mountain; -saw the craterlooked down, but there was nothing in it.
Leech. But the bay?
Sir C. Inferior to Dublin !
Leech. The Campagna ?
Leech. The Pyramids ?
Sir C. You? What is it?
You bore me. Is that would make my my heart beat, - my